


And The Healing Has Begun

by secondsofhappiness



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondsofhappiness/pseuds/secondsofhappiness
Summary: "Well you look anything but comfortable," Aaron says as he eventually steps back into their room, easing the door closed. He's carrying a tray and Robert closes his eyes and groans because a tray means sitting up and sitting up means moving and moving means pain."I can't."Aaron laughs and Robert sighs. "Can't what? Or you just can't in general?"-------Robert is ill. Sugdens don't get ill.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The ever delightful @bartsugsy on tumblr requested something along these lines. I had way too much fun writing this even though I am also ill today... :)  
> I hope you enjoy!

He's not ill.

Chas is wrong, Liv is wrong and Aaron is definitely wrong. He doesn't get ill, it's not The Sugden Way to be vulnerable and to let something like flu get the upper hand.

"He's always like this," he hears from the other room and frowns, it's Vic sticking her nose in again and it's about the last thing he needs right now. It's only a headache and something a couple of Paracetamol will sort out. "He never has been good at being poorly but that's Robert for ya, he's never one to show weakness."

"Yeah, but if he doesn't stop and take a break he's going to run himself into the ground," Aaron says and Robert sighs, fingers pressing at his temple in an attempt to reduce the pressure.

The morning had started badly with a feeling he'd been swallowing razor blades in his sleep, Chas tutting at him over the rim of her coffee cup. He'd said he was fine even if his skin was hurting; he had two deals to wrap up, the monthly scrap yard report to review and a business proposal from an events company in Leeds to read. Being ill isn't part of the plan.

"Oh, someone looks peaky," comes a voice from behind him and Robert groans, forehead in the palm of his hand where he's propped up at the table in front of his laptop. Charity. The person at the very bottom of a very long list of people he has zero patience with today.

"Well, good job I don't trust your judgement on anything, isn't it?" he replies, throat burning as she walks past and leans against the kitchen bench, one perfectly constructed eyebrow quirked.

"Calm down, I was only pointing out the obvious. I'm surprised Aaron isn't here playing doctor, that's all."

He takes a deep breath, needing all the energy to deal with her at the best of times and finding levels are low. "Yeah, well, I'm fine," he snaps, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. The words swim so he slams the laptop shut and grabs his coat to leave. "And you really need to keep your weird middle aged lady kinks to yourself because frankly, it's creepy."

He hears her tut behind him, every muscle screaming out for the sofa beside him but he rounds the door and walks directly into Aaron.

"Woah, where do you think you're going?" 

Aaron's voice is loud, echo-y and filling his head, the same head that's somehow pressed against the wall as he closes his eyes and relies on the structural integrity of the pub to keep him upright. "I'm fine," he croaks out and knows it's a losing battle.

"You're the world's worst liar, Robert. Just sit down will ya and stop being a baby."

Robert cracks his right eye open and tilts his head towards Aaron, knowing Charity's listening and sticking her nose into their business. She can't help herself. "Not the sofa," is all he says and Aaron's eyes soften, lips quirking into a smile that he adores so much. 

"Ok, not the sofa. But bed then because I'm not having you collapsing half way to the scrap yard and having to lug you all the way back here." Aaron is smiling though, his hand warm and soft on Robert's arm.

Perhaps being ill whilst also having a fiancé as gentle as his might not be such a bad combination.

It takes longer than normal to reach their bed but as it dips under his weight and their duvet molds around him, he knows Aaron's right. He's alone because apparently lemon and honey helps and Chas has a special stash of strong tablets in her hangover drawer. Robert doesn't want to know; like most things when it comes to The Dingles, it's better not to ask. 

He's still fully clothed, the creases of his shirt digging painfully into his too sensitive skin and it's going to take some serious effort to get comfortable. Their room is cool though after Aaron opened the window and it's the first time Robert has allowed it open since mid-November, a constant source of bickering between them. Going to bed in a freezing cold room is just something he won't accept. He's not a heathen; they pay for central heating so why not use it. 

"Well you look anything but comfortable," Aaron says as he eventually steps back into their room, easing the door closed. He's carrying a tray and Robert closes his eyes and groans because a tray means sitting up and sitting up means moving and moving means pain.

"I can't."

Aaron laughs and Robert sighs. "Can't what? Or you just can't in general?"

Robert opens his eyes, staring dead at Aaron in response. He knows he's lying awkwardly and is well aware of how unattractive he must look because if the colour of the skin on his hands is anything to go by, his face is going to look a picture. Grey and miserable. "What do I need to do for you to leave me alone?" 

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and Aaron's face falls. Robert watches as he schools his expression and glares back at Robert, slamming the tray on Robert's bedside table, the noise shooting through his brain and making him wince. Aaron smiles wide and smug and Robert scowls. Bastard.

"You're not mothering me, are you?"

Aaron makes a noise in his throat, a mixture of amusement and sarcasm. "You don't have to worry about that. You're awful when you're ill. Vic already warned me so it's fine, I'll leave and you can just struggle with getting changed yourself."

Robert moves to sit up, brow furrowed deep at the pain that cuts across his skin, brain screaming to lie still. He can do it. If he can run two companies and help co-parent a teenager who seems to thrive on causing mischief he can take off a blazer and find a t-shirt to replace it.

"Fine," he states as he kicks off his jeans and angles his shoulder, joints stiff and agonising to move. Maybe he can sleep in three layers of clothing. Aaron's not going to get the upper hand. Sugdens don't give in to sickness. As he's tugging his arm from sleeve of his blazer, the thick material drags against the hairs on his arms and at once, everything hurts. Head foggy and exhaustion dragging him down, he swears under his breath and tastes defeat.

The sound of Aaron's chuckle shoots like a dagger through Robert's head and he scrubs a hand across his face with a wince. 

"Come here," Aaron says, softer and close, so close in fact that when Robert opens his eyes from his slump sitting on the side of the bed, the only thing in focus is Aaron's face. It's familiar and kind and Robert closes his eyes on a smile. Betrayed by his own emotions.

"Shut up," is all he can manage and suddenly everything is Aaron's hands, Aaron's smell, Aaron's soft breathy laugh in his ear as his blazer is miraculously removed. Fingers tap near his chest, working at his buttons, the cool air close to heavenly against his skin.

"If were going to get married, you're going to have to let me see you when you're ill, Robert."

"Yeah well, you might not sleep with me again so I'm not taking the risk," he says with as much of a smirk as he can manage, eyes flicking up to catch Aaron's eye roll.

"Even half collapsed and full of flu you still manage to flirt. You're a nightmare, you know that?"

Robert laughs then and it hurts but he can't resist. "Yeah, I know. I'm worse when I'm ill though. Just a warning."

Aaron's hands are gentle but deft as he slips off Robert's shirt and replaces it with a thin t-shirt, careful not to drag against his skin. Something warm and comfortable tugs deep in the pit of Robert's stomach. "I can handle it."

Something incredibly soft curls against his skin and Robert jumps a little at the touch but it's welcome and smells addictive. He looks down and smiles. Of course. "You eventually got me into your clothes then."

Aaron's tugging the duvet from under Robert, drawing it back with a grin. "I'm just taking advantage of you in your fragile state but I'm not really sure I could get used to you wearing a hoodie. You look like you're playing dress up."

"Now that's something I can arrange," Robert drawls and the attempted wink only tugs the skin at his temple and it's the worst idea he's ever had. The ache worsens and he's had enough so it takes seconds before he's lying back. Giving up is for idiots and it seems like even the best of people have to admit defeat once in a while.

"Yeah well, Romeo, you're not fooling anyone," Aaron says with a smile as he drops to his knee by the side of the bed. He's close and handsome and wearing the hoodie Robert bought him for Christmas, the navy one with the hint of a pattern at the chest. Navy is Aaron's colour and Robert half smiles into the pillow at the memories that slide into his mind, eyes like lead and limbs weak. The duvet is over him now though and Aaron's hand is resting on top of it, a spot of pressure that doesn't cause pain only a sense of comfort.

Illness has always been an inconvenience especially when there's nobody around to care or worse, when there is a person but they thrive on fuss and the bed sheets are starch stiff and room clinical. Chrissie had tried, he'd resisted and snapped and she'd stuck to leaving him to it.

He's wrapped in a ratty hoodie with the muffled sound of the inhabitants of The Woolpack drifting up the stairs and the hum of Liv's music from the adjacent room. It's still a shock - his new life - but it settles around him sometimes and he forgets. It's all Aaron's fault that he's getting soft in his old age. He'll never let it show too much though, the thrill of making someone who deserves it squirm, barking orders at Jimmy and Rodney or pissing Chrissie off when he's bored still keeps his day interesting but as the lamp by his side sets a glow in the room and Aaron pats his arm, Robert gives in. 

"I'll be up later and you can complain some more but until then, drink some of that, take those tablets and sleep. And if you don't, I'll send Liv in with her phone and we all know she has previous for humiliation via video."

Robert groans into the pillow but bites his lip against a smile at Aaron's parting wink, the door sliding closed behind him.

He can't complain. Even his eye lids hurt and he's pretty sure if he tried to stand up, his legs would give way and Liv would hear and have to come pick him up off the floor but he lets relief wash over him. Sugdens don't do sickness and they definitely don't do defeat but maybe Dingles let people take care of them. Seeing as he's sure Cain will strap him to a chair and pour a welly of ale down his throat in a month's time, he's willing to try something new for once.


End file.
